


When you were mine

by MiriRainbowitz



Series: those were our wives (who decided to fuck) [10]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 23:42:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6399025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiriRainbowitz/pseuds/MiriRainbowitz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he and Eliza had first started dating, Alexander wrote her a letter every day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When you were mine

**Author's Note:**

> I've been listening to Burn a lot, and I recently wondered if I could fit it into this verse, hence this fic. Also, I love and hate El for enabling everything in this series.
> 
> This fic is set 4 days after "An amorous connection". In case anyone was wondering, "Aac" happens at around 4 am on a Thursday morning, and this fic happens Monday afternoon/evening.

The house is quiet when Alexander gets there, which is very weird, at least for him. Honestly, he’s not sure it’s ever been this quiet – they’d moved here when Alex Jr was a few months old, and much like Alexander himself, he’d been very loud. But now, he and Angie and Philip were in class, James and John were at daycare, and Eliza was at work. 

Still, the quiet has at least one good quality – he’s not really up to interacting with people. He goes up to the attic, grabs two suitcases, then goes to the bedroom. The larger suitcase gets his clothes and shoes and toiletries, while the smaller one gets stuff like electronics and a few books.

Alexander gets the larger suitcase filled first, then starts going through all of the drawers and cabinets for the other stuff. He starts going through the bookshelves, picking out the books he wants to take with him, when he sees a stack of papers on one of the shelves and freezes.

When he and Eliza had first started dating, Alexander wrote her a letter every day.. Some of them were long and flowery, filled with descriptions of something she’d done or how she’d looked in some particular incident – heck, some of them even had barely decent attempts at poetry – while others were short, only written to try to write to her daily, and others still were just telling her how his day had been. He’d stopped writing the letters when they’d moved in together, but that had been over a year after they’d started dating.

His hands are trembling as he picks up the papers and looks at them, and yep, they’re the letters. His vision blurs as he stands there and stares, and suddenly there’s a drop of water on the letter on the top. For a second, he wonders where it came from, then realizes it’s a tear. He puts the letters down on the nearest surface and wipes his eyes.

Mechanically, he finishes the rest of his packing, his thoughts still dwelling on the letters. He’s angry and sad and he wants nothing more than to burn them, destroy them like Eliza has destroyed their relationship, but… in the end, he can’t bring himself to. Burning the letters – burning the memories of what he and Eliza had used to be – would be an irrevocable sign that their relationship was utterly and completely over, and there’s still some part of him that foolishly hopes that they can still get past this.

In the end, Alexander leaves the letters sitting on the bed. He may not want their relationship to be over, but he’s not above reminding Eliza what she’s done.

 

The first thing Eliza sees when she opens the bedroom door is an innocuous-looking pile of papers sitting in the center of the bed, and a chill goes through her. She knows, as if someone had shouted it, that Alexander had been here today, and a quick look around the room shows her why – he’d taken his stuff. He’d moved out, and she feels tears pricking her eyes. Over the weekend, she’d been able to pretend that nothing was wrong, that Alexander was just busy at work, but that wouldn’t work anymore.

She walks over to the bed, shedding her purse and jacket, and picks up the paper on the top, and her heart clenches as she starts reading.

_My dearest Eliza –_

_Can I call you dearest? I know we only met a month ago and started dating two weeks ago, so calling you dearest might be a bit forward, but honestly, it’s how I feel about you. When I see you smile, my day gets brighter; when I hear you laugh, I feel like I could float away; when I talk with you, I can’t help but marvel at how wonderful and intelligent and amazing you are; and when I kiss you – well. Perhaps that would be more appropriately expounded on in private._

_Anyway, my dearest Eliza, I mostly just wanted to say that finally meeting your parents and your little sister Peggy was actually not as bad as I thought it would be. Your father is a lot nicer than the father of my ex-boyfriend, largely because he’s a racist, homophobic dick; your father, though he’s a bit intimidating, at least did not say that you and I would be going to hell for dating each other. And your mother is lovely – I can see where you get your sweetness – and your sister Peggy was a treasure. Angelica, at least, remained as terrifyingly intelligent as always, and seeing you was definitely the highlight of my day._

_And now I must bid you adieu, because Herc just said that I haven’t slept in 56 hours (he is, unfortunately, right), and that the sound of me writing this letter and being disgustingly smitten with you is keeping him up, and he has an early day tomorrow._

_Goodnight, and sweet dreams,_  
_Your disgustingly smitten Alexander_

That had been one of the earliest letters he’d written. Eliza can even remember how she’d felt when she’d read it – happy and giddy and unable to keep a smile off her face. She’d been head over heels for Alexander then, and the daily letters and their contents had made her feel like she was the happiest person in the world.

She picks up the rest of the letters and puts them on the bedside table before she lays down and starts sobbing into the pillow. She knows she has stuff to do – get dinner ready, help Philip and Angie with some of their homework, and still do some more stuff for work – but she doesn’t know if she even has the energy to do it. 

Normally, she’d call Alexander – if she was having a bad day, he’d abandon whatever he was doing to come home and take care of her and the kids – but that definitely isn’t an option anymore, and that thought makes her cry even harder. How on earth is she supposed to make it through this by herself?


End file.
